


The Archduchess

by Madame_Butterfly



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Archduchess!Loki, Death, Intersex Loki, Japanese Influence, M/M, Mean!Thor, Noble!Loki, Thor's a bastard, Vanir!Loki, really quite dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2684606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Butterfly/pseuds/Madame_Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is in a difficult situation and Thor is a heartless brute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Archduchess

**Author's Note:**

> There are more warnings so as to not ruin the story I suggest you click to read the notes at the end.
> 
> I am not terribly nice when writing fanfiction you may notice, this is a very dark doc with warnings for death. Do comment I should like to see what you all think. Literary prowess is to be desired & I've no beta.
> 
> Once again so as to not anger you all if you are triggered by certain things I suggest you read the warnings I've written at the bottom, you've been warned and if you are offended after reading this fic I have warned you once and twice. 
> 
> There is no kindness, I assure you.

They had all but lost, the Great Aesir-Vanir war was nearly over and the Vanir were presently downtrodden and left destitute left to be trapped in a quagmire of indignation and loathing. Fourteen years previously the Aesir launched an offensive in the south, regrettably the Vanir had lost land rapidly. Now the Aesir were only a few days March away from the capital where Freya had dispatched the Valkyries in a desperate attempt to push the hoards of Asgardians back declaring “The Aesir are to young to rule, I will die before my throne falls into their hands!”

But this is not where our story takes place, a land away from Vanaheim, Asgard, the royal palace in particular. Where men are recuperating and where treasures of the Vanir are hoarded, even regrettably the Vanir themselves.

Even a the premier Archduchess of Vanaheim, Loki Laufeyjarson. He is not bound but neither is he free. Presently he is in the crown prince’s chambers, awaiting the dreaded unfamiliar footsteps that will soon echo in the halls.

But Loki shall win, he always wins, even when it is thought he loses, ultimately he always wins in some way or another.

He kneels in a room within the chambers meant for meditation which admittedly has been in conspicuous disuse, for there is dust on every surface and cobwebs in every corner.

He kneels, in his formal attire, a once fashionable kimono, silk with golden flower embroidery and his best silk slippers. His hair is up, arranged as it should be for one of his station, not a single hair out of place, powdered as it should be.

It's up his sleeve, he feels it against his skin, it is cool, refreshing considering the heat of Asgardian weather.

 

* * *

 

 

His feet echoed in the halls, for most of the men had either drunken themselves into an abyss or were visiting the parlours.

He was looking forward to this. A thrall, a thrall to do with what he pleased, the prince was excited, like a child.

He was quickly advancing on his chambers, he had come directly from the feast which had since concluded.

He would fill the Vanir with his seed, it was not as if he had been with anyone before, he was doubtless no blushing Virgin, but this Vanir was, Loptr, Hveðrungr or was it Loki, that now mattered not.

For Thor, the God of Thunder and fertility had reached his chambers and would soon enough have an heir.

He knew the Vanir would doubtless resist, but he had dealt with those like he before. He knew just what he would do.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki knew just what he was doing, there was naught that oaf could do to stop him, he was ready, he had tied his legs together with a length of ribbon he had found and was now prepared, the ribbon was silk, fit for a prince.

 

* * *

 

Thor flung open the door and found the Vanir quickly, in the meditation room, kneeling waiting for him, Thor smirked. The Archduchess' back was to him.

As he advanced on the Archduchess he felt strange, something unfamiliar a feeling in the room, familiar one he knew all to well but couldn't place, for when he went to grab the shoulder of the downtrodden Archduchess he fell forwards to the ground, Thor at this point gripped his arm and turned him on his back, the Archduchess had slit his own throat, right along the artery, it would have been quick his death, he did it only moment before Thor had concluded. Blood had poured down his kimono, it was fresh and in his hand, in his hand was the tanto he had hidden away and subsequently used to give himself an honourable death.

Reader, I must ask you. Who was it that was victor of the field?

**Author's Note:**

> There is suicide, contemplated and attempted rape.


End file.
